Avante's Truth
(This story was posted on the Utopia Skye forums by Avante on August 2, 2005. Though it seems primarily to take place in Azeroth, there are) ---- Avante's Truth ---- Avante surveyed the landscape with the air of an artist who was about to paint a masterpiece. He strategically commanded that the catapults be placed just out of bow range and rode up to the gate of the great Elven kingdom of Dorus Elbathon. "The heron easily snatches fish from the pond, like so will I take my friend from you if you do not release him!" he commanded. His voice is a bit like the heron; quiet, but with the sound of the most powerful lord. His idea could not be mistaken, ‘Free him, or die’. That was the initial message. The Elven prince Orgion responded by shooting an arrow at Avante. The response was clear, "He can rot in his cell, and you can rot with him." The elves had been growing increasingly hostile towards the Orcs since the battle of Demassin Beach. Not that there had been any love between the two races, but the elves usually did not pick fights, they only won them. With those last words, the siege began. The catapults sent pots of boiling oil over the battlements, burning everything in sight. The elves sent volley after volley over the wall, dwindling the Orcs’ numbers. The Orcs still gained the upper hand, having more experience in battle than the elves, who spent their lives feasting and drinking. Suddenly the Orcs stopped firing. A faint whistling could be heard, followed by a steady ‘boom, boom’. All at once, elves just fell to the ground. A cannonball tore through the battlements, shattering rock and bone alike as if they were nothing but glass. It was a massacre, elves were falling off the wall like ants. Avante’s long time friend and associate Kolgan had taken a different route with a crew of traitorous Dwarven prisoners. He brought a steam tank that he had "borrowed" from the Dwarven king. He marched across the plains of Aaroth, to the forest of Dwyllwood, where the Elven Citadel was located. A cannonball blew the gates apart and the bulk of the Orc army rushed in to meet the High Elven Vanguard in a clash of steel and bone and flesh. Avante rode in on his black war horse, cleaving everyone in his path. He reached the portcullis to the prison just as Kolgan rode up next to him. Kolgan placed dynamite around the gate, blowing the wall open. Immediately they were under a barrage of arrows. Kolgan shot several bullets into the crowd, killing two elves, but he took an arrow in the arm and two in the chest. Coughing and sputtering, he spoke his last words, "Avenge me, brother." Then his body went limp, and slumped against the wall. In a blind rage, Avante rushed the bow men. He took several arrows in non-vital areas, like the legs and arms. Weakened, but still not stoppable, he slammed into the first soldier shoulder first, the spikes on his pauldron slid through the elf’s armor like a knife through butter. He took the next two out with a reverse upward swipe, then came down on the last, slicing through his helmet, flesh, and bone. He truly was unstoppable. He stood there, laughing, but there was one thing he had not counted on. Orgion stood in the open archway to the prison, brandishing a rather evil looking twin bladed scythe. "You don’t know how long I have dreamt of this day, Avante." He spoke as one who had just heard a good joke. He was obviously happy that he would get to face Avante in a duel to the death. Even in his weakened state, Avante thought he could kill this insolent elf. He rose, but did not attack. He held his sword to the side, in a stance that said, "Bring it on." Orgion slowly walked towards him, twirling his scythe like a dervish. Without warning he rolled to the side and drew a flintlock pistol, one that he had no doubt picked up off Kolgan’s corpse. He shot at Avante but it glanced off his helmet. "You’ll have to do better than that," said Avante dryly. The next shot hit him squarely in the chest. In his worry for Salidar, he had forgotten that Kolgan carried a pistol with two shots. It was a fatal mistake. Even as his vision went dark, his entire life, all he’d aspired to be, flashed before his eyes. ---- Chapter One ---- He saw his friend and foster mother Alora, as clearly as if it had been a dream. Avante was found as an infant in the dense forest of Lychwood, by Alora, a young alchemist. She cared for him and taught him until he was 18 years old, when he left to make a future. No matter where he went, or what he did, he would always come back to visit her, every year, until one year he came back and she wasn’t there. He searched and searched, finally learning that she’d been kidnapped by bandits, and that she was being held in the their encampment some ways to the south. He left immediately, only pausing to buy some supplies, a sword, and a bow. Avante knew the land pretty well, and he didn’t get lost more than once. He reached the camp without incident, but was detained while trying to enter. His sword flashed in the moonlight, glistening with the blood of his enemies. He slew his attackers quietly and quickly, then snuck into the camp. He reached the prison cell where Alora was being held without meeting anyone, but it then became more difficult. Alora was injured. There was a large gash bleeding freely down her left leg. There were three guards outside the cage, but if he let them know he was there, they would raise the alarm. If the bandits were searching for him, he wouldn’t be able to carry Alora to the gate, which would probably be locked. He raised his hand, preparing to speak. His voice carried across the open field: "Orun northador," which meant quite literally, "Silence them". Silently, all three guards collapsed. Without making a sound, he crept silently across the field, moving like a cat. He reached the cage and, with his mind, moved the lock mechanism around until he heard a click. The door swung open and Alora greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "What kept you?" she asked incredulously. "Oh, you know, I forgot to lock the door, feed the cat, the usual," replied Avante, grinning. "We should keep moving, the guards are due to change any minute." said Alora. "Can you walk?" "It’s painful, but yes." She stooped down and picked up a dagger from one of the fallen guard’s belts. "Lets go." They silently crept off towards the gate but by a different path than Avante used to reach the cells. "There they are!" a voice loomed out of the darkness. Alora cursed in Elvish. "I’ll hold them off, I’m stronger than you, run, I’ll be right behind you." whispered Avante. "I’ll not leave you." she said urgently. "If you stay you will be killed." "Okay, but you better be right behind me." She conceded. With that she ran off in the direction of the gate. Avante was immediately under attack. He was right, if she had stayed, she would have been killed. Avante showed the men no mercy, and followed shortly after. Avante saw blood on the ground and got worried. When he saw a body up ahead, he became scared, then he saw the dead guards and realized that she was stronger than she looked. When he reached the gate he gasped. Lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the clearing was Alora, with an arrow protruding from her arm. She was badly wounded, but that wasn’t the biggest problem. A man, or what looked like one was standing in the portcullis opening. The problem was seven feet tall, with blue flames jetting from his helm’s eye slits, and he was holding an enormous longbow made from what looked like a small tree. He drew an arrow, and pulled the bow back to full capacity. Avante moved just in time. The arrow zinged past him, and embedded itself halfway through a tree trunk. He drew a second, this time aiming just below Avante’s head. Just before he could shoot, a dagger flew towards the demon, landing with a thump in his neck. He had time for one shot, so he put it where it would do the most damage. He shot Alora in the chest. The monster collapsed like a tree, shaking the ground. He fell, pooling blood, and burst into flame. Alora gasped for air, the tip had punctured her lung. Avante rushed towards her, frantically trying to heal her with magic, but it could not be done, the arrow had done its work. With a gasp and a shudder, Alora looked last upon Avante, and the world went dark. Avante rose with a roar that sent several of the men that had surrounded them running. He turned around and walked towards them, raising the sword above his head. It glowed green, green like the fire in his eyes. Anyone who stood before him was slain without thought. Anyone who was sensible ran, only to be brought down with several arrows. He slaughtered the entire camp, then piled the corpses and burned them. Last, he paused to cut of the head off the bandit’s leader, and stuck it on a pike outside of the gate. He then left it as a reminder of what happens to people when they get in his way. He took Alora’s body back to Verinhelm for burial. She was buried amongst the flowers she loved so much. She was at last returned to the earth where she came from. ---- Chapter Two ---- He saw his friend and ally, Aronax, the man who had taken him to meet Xerces, his former mentor. Avante knew he was no longer safe outside the walls of any city. He sought refuge at the Bowlegger Tavern, in the city of Drare Fresis. "Barkeep, get my friend here a beer." Avante looked over as the bartender passed him a foaming mug of warm brown ale. "I’m Aronax. I asked around, and was told that you were the man who took on a Demon, and lived." "What’s it to you?" Avante said warily. He was not his usual cheerful self. He had turned sullen and careless, though he was not about to let his guard down to a man who was wearing a black cloak and had a large sword at his belt. "As I said, I am Aronax, and I have an offer for you. I’d like you to meet somebody." Avante rose, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Ah, I see you don’t trust me. I suppose that’s a good thing though isn’t it." "Who do you want me to meet?" "No one knows his real name, not even me. He goes by the name Xerces, it means ‘One of Power’ Ever heard of him?" "No, should I have?" "No, I suppose not..." "Okay, take me to him, but I’m watching you." They walked out into the street and proceeded towards the darker side of town. There were few living things there, no children playing in the streets, no dogs, even the trees were dead. It seemed all but abandoned. Up ahead there was a single stone house, normal except for one thing. There was an eerie red glow coming from the window. Avante grasped for his sword, but Aronax reached down and grabbed his hand. "You won’t be needing that." Aronax walked up and knocked slowly, three times. The door opened and a dwarf answered. "Kolgan, at yer service," he stated proudly. Avante stared straight back into the dwarf’s cold, silver eyes. "Avante, at yours," he replied. The dwarf had a most peculiar way of dressing. He had black belt, around a dark red shirt that Avante was uncomfortably sure was stained with blood. In his belt he had two pistols, One was double barreled, the other was strange. It had a long, curved blade attached to the end, presumably for short range, surprise attacks on the enemy. A man sitting at a table rose, speaking softly; a convincing tone, yet frightening in a way. "Well, we meet at last, Slayer." "Slayer ? " Avante replied curiously. "You have slain a Demon. Few have had the privilege and the honor to do such a thing" "A Demon? You mean that monster of a man was a Demon?" "Yes, Demons possess supernatural strength, speed, and stamina. Sometimes it can take up to ten men to kill one, and you did it with the help of a dying elf." "She is not just an elf, she is my mother. She was my reason to go on living." "Well, you have another reason to go on living if you plan to avenge her." "What?" "Every Demon has to be summoned, they don’t just appear." "I wouldn’t know where to start." "You could ask me." "Do you know?" "I might. There have been reports of a colony of necromancers in the forest of Dwyllwood, near Dorus Elbathon. They call themselves The Nightstalkers. I happen to have a map of the area. Kolgan here will accompany you if you like. You may leave as soon as you’re ready. Oh, by the way, I didn’t properly introduce myself. I am Xerces. I go by many names, Slayer, Gladiator, Deathbringer, Silencer… whatever you like to call me, I can be your greatest ally, or your worst enemy." "Thank you, Xerces." Avante said, nodding. "Aronax," he said, polishing a rather painful looking, serrated knife, "get our young friend here outfitted with some new armor; black. If we have any more Mithril, use it, get him a black leather traveling cloak, a pack of supplies, a new bow, a hunting knife, and some maps of the areas around Verinhelm, Ironforge, and Dorus Elbathon. Kolgan, forge this man the Double Cross ring of our alliance, and make him a sword. Also get him outfitted with a good pistol, double barreled if it’s not too much trouble," "Yes sir." "Aye, righ’ away sir." "Xerces, something’s been bothering me. How did that Demon die from just that one knife?" "Well, what happened, did he explode into ashes?" "No, he fell to the ground, burst into flame, but he stayed in one piece." "He is not dead. It is better than I thought. If you find him and kill him, then, there is one spell that will revive the tortured soul held trapped inside him. Only then can we be sure that it was the Nightstalkers’ evil that brought him to life." "Well, lets see how good you are with a sword, shall we?" Xerces held out his hand and a black shadow took the shape of a sword in front of Avante’s eyes. Avante drew, and began the most complicated series of attacks he knew. After about an hour of this, Xerces called for a halt. "A very good start, You are unmatched outside of this room, but I’m afraid it is time to rest. We shall continue in the morning." Avante learned quickly, his skills improved with each passing day. A week later, the grueling exercises stopped. Avante was awakened early that morning by Kolgan. He remembered his first actual meeting with Kolgan, and the raid on his new home so many years ago. "Wake up Avante." There was a crash outside. "What is it?" asked Avante, pulling on a mail shirt. "Raid on the house, they must have found us." There came the sound of the door splintering in. "Give me your pistol, I’ll hold them off. Ready my horse and armor; I’ll be right behind you." Kolgan handed him a double barreled pistol and ran off towards the stables. Avante kicked open the door to his room and immediately found himself face to face with Xerces. The room was full of bodies. Xerces blade was shining with blood. "I guess you didn’t need me after all" "You’ll live to regret saying that," Xerces said sarcastically as another door burst open and men poured into the room, surrounding them. Xerces handed Avante a long, serrated knife. Some of the men looked at it with fear, some stared at the cruel blade with awe. Men rushed in from all sides. Avante shot one man in the chest, firing with both barrels at once, then dropped the gun and drew another knife. He threw it at the nearest man. It revolved once, landing with a thump in the man’s throat. The man fell with a gargle, tripping two others. Avante took two out with magic, and killed another three with the knife. He stabbed the last man in the stomach, and shoved him against the wall, trapping him. The man stood there, paralyzed, blood trickling out the corner of his mouth. "Who sent you?" Xerces demanded. The man moaned, "I’ll die before I tell you anything." "So you shall." With that Xerces muttered a word under his breath and the man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Avante yanked the knife out of the man’s corpse, which fell to the ground with a thud. "We cannot stay here any longer. The king obviously knows of our existence, We are no longer safe. We must ride to Ironforge; there Kolgan can talk to his kinsmen about a place to rest. It would be a good idea to wear your armor," he concluded, "The more important we look, the less questions we’ll be asked." Avante truly looked unstoppable in his armor. The black made him look like some kind of machine, his eyes standing out like green embers, His sword had a thin green streak down the center of the blade, and there were runes set into the crossbar. His pistol was double barreled, It was silver and had a brown wooden handle with gold inlay. The traveling cloak was black leather with a silver clasp at the neck. The cloak had the Double Cross insignia of the alliance, just like the ring, emblazoned on the back. They ran to the stables and found Kolgan saddling the horses. Avante’s was black, Xerces’ was white, Kolgan’s was ash gray. They rode for three days, stopping to rest only when they could ride no more. On the fourth day, they ran out of food. Avante went hunting. He tied his horse up near some grass and wandered into a forest, looking for animals. After about an hour, he became anxious, as he heard rough, coarse voices coming from a clearing ahead. He snuck around to the side and peered in. A colony of Goblins had set up camp in the clearing and were roasting a dwarf on a spit and singing. "Roast em’ Toast em’ Eat em’ raw, freeze em’ then let em’ thaw. Roast em’ toast em’ boil and broil, ‘till eyes glaze and drip oil. Ya Hey!" Avante was sickened. Queasy, he went back to tell Xerces. "Goblins you say?" "Yes, about fifty or so." "Well, I suggest we ride on, three cannot defeat fifty. We can hunt elsewhere." "Kolgan, saddle the horses, we are leaving." Kolgan put out the fire and went to obey. About three minutes later, there were several gunshots. Xerces and Avante rushed toward the sound. Several Goblins lay dead, and several more held Kolgan tightly by the arms. Avante drew his sword, Xerces drew his. They rushed at the Goblins, who dropped Kolgan and ran into the trees. "We must ride now. Avante, get your horse, Kolgan, get yours, we must leave." They saddled their horses with no delay, making haste in putting leagues between them and the goblins. ---- Chapter Four ---- He remembered vividly his first day in Ironforge, the sights he saw, the people he met. They made Ironforge the next day, riding up to the large stone doors, which opened slowly, as if they were staining to stay closed. They stabled their horses at a local Inn, then went to explore the city. "Avante, here is five hundred gold, don’t spend it all in one place, eh?" Avante went off on his own to explore, and quickly found himself in the dungeon. Hearing a roar, he peered through an extra thick barred door. Avante gasped as his mind made sense of what he was seeing. A great black dragon reared under the heavy chains around its neck and arms. It spread its wings, yearning for the open air again, but the chains were too thick. Avante found his way back to the upper atrium, but remembered how to get to the dungeon. He explored the rest of Ironforge, but the memory of the dragon was fresh in his mind. As he sat at the local tavern, drinking, he wondered of there was any chance that the dragon would ever be free again. ‘Not likely,’ he thought. Xerces sat down next to him. "We have a warm bed, food, and drink. Kolgan talked to his friends here. They said they saw you in the dungeons, they said you saw the dragon. You had the same reaction most do when they see something of that magnitude." "What was your reaction?" "I was surprised, I felt like-like I was trapped, somehow, chained like the dragon." That night, Avante dreamt of flying, then chains held him to the ground, and he knew what it must have been like for the dragon. ---- Chapter Five ---- Avante reminisced on going after the Demon. The next few days, he felt weakened, drained of energy, but then he remembered his oath to Alora, and his promise to avenge her. He gained strength, practicing with his sword every day for hours. He was a pretty good shot with his pistol too. Finally, a week later, he decided he was ready to search for the Nightstalkers. He and Kolgan left Ironforge, and rode west, to the river Eertain. They reluctantly paid the ferryman, for the sake of time, and rode south, to the forest of Dwyllwood. They wandered the forest, in search of anything that might lead them to the Nightstalkers. They finally found a camp. A head on an Elven pike accented the dead bodies of the Nightstalkers that littered the ground. Someone had gotten to them before he did. As he turned to leave, he heard a deep laugh. He spun around, fearing the worst. He was not far off. It was the Demon that killed Alora. Avante drew his sword, hatred coursing through his very veins. The Demon was holding a club about the size of a log. It had a spiked tip and a serrated blade going down half the length. Avante drew his pistol, and walked towards the Demon. As it raised the club, Avante shot it twice in the chest. Weakened, the monster dropped the club, drawing a long saber. The curved blade glittered in the sunlight. He charged. His and Avante’s swords collided with a force that could have broken stone. They fought for what seemed like hours; neither could gain the upper hand. then a single shot rang out. The giant stumbled and Avante buried the sword to the hilt in the monster’s heart. The monster fell to the ground, writhing in pain, and burst into blue flames, shriveling, until he was nothing but dust. While they were fighting, Kolgan had snuck up behind the beast and shot him in the back. Avante quickly performed the spell that Xerces had taught him. A single breeze formed the ashes into a human shape, and a spirit stood before him. "Who summoned you?" he asked gently. "Thank you for freeing me. The man, if you can call him that, is Orgion, the Elven prince. He has been corrupted by his own evil magic, and is controlled by spirits." With that, the dust vanished, and the apparition was no more. Avante and Kolgan traveled back to Ironforge, and were surprised to find that an Orc army had massed outside the gate. He instructed the camp guard to take him to the general. Xerces sat in the tent, Poring over old maps of Ironforge. "You know, Avante, I first started the Alliance because of that dragon. It made me realize how oppressed the nations were. You wanted to free the dragon? Well here’s your chance. Take a battalion of Orc Marksmen into the dungeons. Find your way into the dragons hold, and destroy the chains. Unlike some creatures, dragons have a unique sense of honor. It will make an exit for itself, and you. You have rendered it a service, one that in its eyes, must be repaid tenfold. Here, take these maps…" "That’s okay, I know the way through the dungeons, I thought it might come in handy someday." "So it has, I’m impressed. Okay, I’ll cause a diversion with the main force inside while you free the dragon, Kolgan will be freeing the prisoners in the main prison. Okay, lets go knock, shall we?" ---- Chapter Six ---- Xerces rode up on his white stallion, Avante on his black one. They rode up to the gate, with the entire army behind them. The dwarves on top of the giant doors jeered and yelled at Xerces, but their mouths closed in horror as the gates started to open. Aronax stood in the giant entrance, holding the lever that controlled the doors. "Anyone care to join me for tea?" he asked cheerily, as ten thousand battle hungry Orcs raged past him into the city. Avante ran in with Orc marksmen following him. He led the way into the dungeons, but ran into a patrol at the entrance. The Orcs silently moved into position, and killed them one by one with darts and knives, hiding their bodies. They were the elite of the Orcs. They went through the tunnels, making odd marks here and there, marking where they’d been so they didn’t get lost. Avante did not lead them astray. A while later they reached the dragon’s prison. Drawing upon hidden vestiges of strength, he sent the familiar green flames up his sword, this time they shone emerald green, the metal itself seeming to mold to the shape of the flames. He slashed through the metal door, entering a dark cave. He had one of the Orcs light a torch, and called for the dragon. He was impressed when a giant tongue of flame burst seemingly from nowhere and lit several large torches around the outer wall of the cave. The dragon crouched, ready to spring, but Avante put his sword away, and held his hands up in a sign of peace. The dragon relaxed a bit and held out its arms so that Avante could cut the chains, which he did. Suddenly, a row of Dwarven archers filed into the room, firing at the Orcs. The Orcs were outnumbered and were massacred. Avante slashed the last chain bonding the dragon to the cave. It reared and spread its wings, burning the Dwarves that chose to stay. In a clear voice, the dragon spoke, "You have rendered me a great service Half-Elf. One that must be repaid. Come, I shall bear you to battle." With that, Avante sat in the nook at the base of the neck, and the dragon rose into the air. Xerces was right, the dragon did create an exit for both of them. He created an entrance through the top of the city as well, and landed near the raging battle below. "Xerces, get whoever you can out, I’ve got him, I’ll go get Kolgan and Aronax!" he shouted. He took off again. He found the prison, but it was deserted, and a large hole had been blasted in the mountain next to the prison, "Well, Kolgan got out safely." he said, "Now we have to find Aronax." ---- Chapter Seven ---- He found Aronax fighting for his life in a remote corner of the catacombs. He was the only one left, there were dead Orcs all around him. A group of Dwarves were advancing on him slowly, circling him. Avante drew his bow, Shooting two Dwarves in the back. It gave Aronax the chance to break loose from the deathtrap. Together, they ran up the hall, and to the dragon. They flew back towards Xerces, landing next to him. He killed two more dwarves that were creeping up on him, then called for a full retreat. He jumped on the dragon and they all flew to the camp. They freed the dragon, and marched what was left of the Orc army to Demassin Beach, where they would begin the first of two major battles, resulting in death, destruction, and the ultimate downfall of the Elven empire. ---- Chapter Eight ---- The beach was quiet as the fog rolled in. Only the rhythmic washing of the waves on the sand could be heard as the elves and men took their positions amongst the trees overlooking the beach. The fog was unnaturally thick, as if a storm cloud had dropped, unwillingly, from the sky and covered the beach in shadow. For an hour nothing could be heard, then a rhythmic thumping started emanating from what seemed like the center of the fog. Boom, boom, boom, boom. The elves strung their bows and drew arrows; the men readied their crossbows. If you had the ears of a dog, you would have heard the sound of hundreds of feet thumping along the sand, but the warriors amongst the trees heard nothing. Then the drums stopped. A single bloodcurdling scream shattered the air like glass. Another cry answered, and then another. A few men gasped, for what they were hearing was the battle cry of the feared Orc Berserker. So fierce was its rage that it could take five arrows before its brain sent the signal to its heart that it was dead. The fog seemed to thicken as the cries grew closer, then closer. Never before had anyone, save the Lich King himself, gathered as many Orc Berserkers together as were heard in the screams. As the fog thickened, it became apparent why. Three Dark Warriors rode up on horses that seemed to be made entirely of black flame. They seemed to be the source of the dark, heavy fog, for wherever they stood, the fog seemed to swirl around them in a tortured agony. The closest of them spoke. "I am Xerces, these are my apprentices Avante and Aronax, and these are our terms of surrender. You will obey them or you will fall." His voice was hypnotic and entrancing. A sort of hiss, like a snake. I can’t tell you exactly what those terms were, for I do not know them myself, but I am quite certain that they did not include the word ‘freedom’. When the Elven Lord Cirion did not respond, the three turned around and Xerces said sadistically "It’s your funeral; just don’t expect us to bury you". With that they disappeared into the fog. The first rank of Orc swordsmen lined up just out of bow range, taunting the allies with coarse grunts, and curses in their primitive tongue. They rushed forward. A heavy whistling filled the air as the men fired their crossbows at the front lines of the Orc Battalion. The front legion flew back, as if an invisible wire had appeared, knocking them back. The battle had begun. There is one battle in history that used the same strategy as Xerces. The commander at Omaha Beach used the same strategy, rushing his troops up the beach, which turned out to be suicide. Xerces wielded a staff, with a large, curved blade on each end. He had a strange, arm-length shield that was attached to his armor. It overlapped at the shoulder and elbow, so his arm had free movement. Avante carried a long sword at his waist, and a heavy spear and round shield. Aronax carried a rather evil looking mace, a huge spiked skull at the end. He also had a dagger at his belt. Xerces held the charge as the Elven cavalry filed out of the forest. He held his spear our in from of him, like a lance, spearing the first three elves. Avante heaved his spear into the human legions, where it knocked a man off his horse, and into a footman, killing both of them. He then drew his sword and galloped into the army. He was unmatched in battle; wherever he went, he spread chaos and death. Aronax rushed the front lines of the human cavalry. He twirled the mace above his head and hit the first man in range in the chest. The unlucky rider was blasted backwards, knocking through ten other men, and smashing into a catapult, rendering it useless. "Hole in one!" yelled Aronax. Avante laughed and threw his knife straight into the chest of a man who had snuck up behind Aronax. "Watch yourself’, he warned. This was all a game to Avante, a game they could not afford to lose. Salidar, Cirion and Orgion stood on the embankment, watching the battle. They all knew that they were losing, so they sent the next wave more quickly than they had planned. Cirion held the rush, Salidar and Orgion close behind. Cirion fought his way up to Xerces, his hatred for the man showing in his every move. He attacked with a sudden violence, making it seem like he was possessed. For a moment, Xerces seemed to shrink and weaken. The he attacked back, fighting with every fiber of his being, crushing Cirion like he was an insect. He stood over the dead body of the Elven King, wondering if…well, he didn’t have time to wonder. Salidar came out of nowhere, slamming into Xerces, stabbing him repeatedly with a knife. Near death, Xerces did not have the strength to move. He raised his arm as if to ward off the finishing blow, but it never came. Avante stood over him, a gleam in his eye, blocking the blow that would have killed Xerces. Salidar stared at him, his eyes showing no trace of what he felt. Salidar attacked him with such ferocity, it reminded him of the grueling days spent training with Xerces. He parried, blocked and dodged every blow Salidar threw at him, tiring his opponent, weakening him. At last Salidar collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily. As he prepared to strike the final blow, something fell out of Salidar’s armor. A half moon on a chain glinted in the sunlight. Avante pulled a similar chain from his own neck. The two pieces matched! Avante stared at his brother, trying to clear his head. Salidar knelt, wondering what he was waiting for. He saw the half moon, clutched in Avante’s hand and realized that Avante wouldn’t kill him. He took a chance and seized the closest weapon he could find. Xerces’ spear lay nearby. He grabbed it, blindly slicing upward. It glanced off Avante’s armor and struck him in the face, slashing a half-moon-shaped scar next to his left eye. As Avante’s blood touched the blade, Salidar’s arm grew rigid. He grew fangs and started to emanate a red mist. He stood, turning on the elves, who had all stopped fighting to watch. Even the Orcs were awestruck. Orgion seized the chance and stabbed Aronax in the back, killing him instantly. Orgion ordered that Salidar be captured at all costs. They formed a circle around him, slowly moving in. He was overwhelmed, and captured. The elves retreated back to Dorus Elbathon, the men fleeing to Verinhelm. Avante knelt beside Xerces limp body, laying his sword on his chest. Xerces whispered one last word, "Save your brother…" then died. Avante burned Xerces body on a makeshift pyre. He gathered together what was left of the Orc army, and marched to Dorus Elbathon to rescue Salidar. Avante surveyed the landscape with the air of an artist who was about to paint a masterpiece. He strategically commanded that the catapults be placed just out of bow range and rode up to the gate of the great Elven kingdom of Dorus Elbathon. "The heron easily snatches fish from the pond, like so will I take my brother from you if you do not release him!" he commanded. His voice is a bit like the heron; quiet, but with the sound of the most powerful lord. His idea could not be mistaken, ‘Free him, or die’. That was the initial message. The Elven prince Orgion responded by shooting an arrow at Avante. The response was clear, "He can rot in his cell, and you can rot with him." The elves had been growing increasingly hostile towards the Orcs since the battle of Demassin Beach. Not that there had been any love between the two races, but the elves usually did not pick fights, they only won them. With those last words, the siege began. The catapults sent pots of boiling oil over the battlements, burning everything in sight. The elves sent volley after volley over the wall, dwindling the Orcs’ numbers. The Orcs still gained the upper hand, having more experience in battle than the elves, who spent their lives feasting and drinking. Suddenly the Orcs stopped firing. A faint whistling could be heard, followed by a steady ‘boom, boom’. All at once, elves just fell to the ground. A cannonball tore through the battlements, shattering rock and bone alike as if they were nothing but glass. It was a massacre, elves were falling off the wall like ants. Avante’s long time friend and associate Kolgan had taken a different route with a crew of traitorous dwarven prisoners. He brought a steam tank that he had "borrowed" from the Dwarven king. He marched across the plains of Aaroth, to the forest of Dwyllwood, where the Elven Citadel was located. A cannonball blew the gates apart and the bulk of the Orc army rushed in to meet the High Elven Vanguard in a clash of steel and bone. Avante rode in on his black war horse, cleaving everyone in his path. He reached the portcullis to the prison just as Kolgan rode up next to him. Kolgan placed dynamite around the gate, blowing the wall open. Immediately they were under a barrage of arrows. Kolgan shot several blasts into the crowd, but he took an arrow in the arm and two in the chest. Coughing and sputtering, he spoke his last words, "Avenge me, brother." Then his body went limp, and slumped against the wall. In a blind rage, Avante rushed the bow men. He took several arrows in non-vital areas, like the legs and arms. Weakened, but still not stoppable, he slammed into the first soldier shoulder first, the spikes on his pauldron slid through the elf’s armor like a knife through butter. He took the next two out with a reverse upward swipe, then came down on the last, slicing through his helmet, flesh, and bone. He truly was unstoppable. He stood there, laughing, but there was one thing he had not counted on. Orgion stood in the open archway to the prison, brandishing a rather evil looking twin bladed scythe. "You don’t know how long I have dreamt of this day, Avante." He spoke as one who had just heard a good joke. He was obviously happy that he would get to face Avante in a duel to the death. Even in his weakened state, Avante thought he could kill this insolent elf. He rose, but did not attack. He held his sword to the side, in a stance that said, "Bring it on." Orgion slowly walked towards him, twirling his scythe like a dervish. Without warning he rolled to the side and drew a flintlock pistol, one that he had no doubt picked up off Kolgan’s corpse. He shot at Avante but it glanced off his helmet. "You’ll have to do better than that," said Avante dryly. The next shot hit him squarely in the chest. In his worry for his brother, he had forgotten that Kolgan carried a pistol with two shots. It was a fatal mistake. Even as his vision went dark, his entire life, all he’d aspired to be, flashed before his eyes. He was not dying fast enough for The arrogant elven prince. He reloaded the gun. Walking up to Avante, he aimed at his head. Avante saw a face in the shadows. With a great burst of newfound strength, Avante yanked out his hunting knife and sliced off Orgion’s hand. Orgion backed away, staring at his bleeding arm in horror… he backed straight into Salidar, who had been watching the fight from the shadows. Orgion’s eyes widened in terror as he wondered how Salidar had escaped. "Magic." Salidar said simply, then grabbed him by the throat and choked him. He rushed to his fallen comrade. "I thought I was supposed to be rescuing you, thanks," Avante choked. Salidar laughed, then healed him with magic. They rode out quickly, carrying Kolgan’s body with them for burial. They left the Orcs to be killed by the elves. Alora was avenged, and the dragon was free. The fate of the Alliance was in his hands. He was Xerces. Category:Misc Skye RP